


the burning ones

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Artistic License, Bad End 2, Compersion, F/M, Multi, Obsession, Photography, Voyeurism, a weird take on a weird end, idk man no one has written anything for this bad end yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: I am a broken house,And you are the loveliest thing on earth.V photographs his beloved. You know which end I'm talking about.





	the burning ones

**Author's Note:**

> Poem excerpt by Salma Deera. I'm sorry for writing this, we all know Jihyun doesn't deserve whats implicated in this end.

_i don’t mind the bruises if it’s your mouth that makes them_

* * *

 

_This is how it has to be._

The click of a shutter snapping open and closed echoes in the room, punctuating the quiet noises like a sharp staccato beat. The quiet exhalations of breath, the occasional rustling, crinkling of fabrics when someone moves to be able to touch somewhere new.

Hands map his lover’s skin like a cartographer, her pale skin shining despite the artificial lighting overhead. Shadows play a haunting midnight melody across her body in the moonlight only the two of them can hear, the others occupants of the room oblivious.

He’d do anything for her.

She knows this, coy smile creeping up on her lips she gives every time he asks.

He begs at the altar for her to give this indulgence to him, the temple of her body as a subject of study. To worship through his camera lens, for her to bare herself like this for him before he runs out of time.

And every time she agrees.

His beloved—she’s always lovely, so very lovely. Like poetry.

But this is  _different._

She burns differently now, like in their most intimate moments. He wants to photograph it, immortalize it. Every moment he didn’t realize, every moment he couldn’t see and couldn’t capture before. An odd bit of clarity, his knowing one day soon he'll be blind. Made him realize things he'd been blind to in the past, right in front of his eyes. The way she’d pat Yoosung on the head tenderly, hug Jaehee just a bit longer than necessary. The way she’d fidget and blush every time Saeyoung or Hyun invaded her personal space to steal a kiss on her cheek.

The way her eyes watched his best friend hungrily when she thought no one else was watching.

Not that he minded.

After all, who was he to clip her wings? She helped him regrow his. Who was he to tell her how to feel? They both had more than enough love together it could easily spill over to others. Especially for their dearly cherished friends in the RFA, those closest to them both.

She whispers saccharine promises in his direction. A hand slides up her shoulder to her hair and he watches through convex glass, his eyes never leaving her body even when hers flutter shut, lashes dark smudges on her cheeks as her lips part in a soft sigh. 

Eyes momentarily slipping shut, his camera goes slack in his fingers. He’s thankful he remembered to put the strap around his neck this time.

(He’s heard her make that same noise before because of him, in their bedroom, and something tightens in his chest before releasing its hold on him just as quickly.)

"V?"

Her voice is curious, breaking him from his reverie.

When he opens his eyes she’s already shifted, posing differently. For his benefit.

He watches a hand skate from her ankle to the back of her knee, the expression on her face tender, like a blessing. Like the soft texture of her thighs he’s touched countless times and is now watching being touched by someone else. Her eyes never leave his as he raises his camera once again.

He praises her, whispering fervent declarations of their love and she whimpers, hand reaching out to him beseechingly. He takes it, photographing her lust in chiaroscuro, trailing his fingers across her palm before letting go. Half her face is shaded, a crescent moon, and he finally understands in her why darkness deserves just as much worship as the light instead of carelessly being blotted out.

He’s had it wrong this whole time: she’s not a sun, she’s the moon.

And he’d give all the stars in the sky to capture that look on her face as he sees it, as he knows it to be. Pluck them all out one by one even if it took a lifetime so she’d be the only thing in his night sky shining his way home.

“Jihyun—”

She gasps as she opens her eyes, the syllables tumbling out fractured, hitched. They sound like music anyway as he watches her spread out like a symphony, haunting and ethereal. Smooth like the finest silk as its pushed up her thighs— higher, higher still.

“How do you feel?” 

He asks as her stockings are being removed, a blush rising up her chest. Fingers map her ribs one by one before skimming the undersides of her breasts.

_“Adored.”_

The man on her left gives an audible grunt in reply. A hazy grin floats across her face as her own fingers skim her clavicle enticingly more for him than anyone else, dropping one of the flimsy straps of her dress down her shoulder he captures just before the moment's gone, lips replacing the area it occupied.

“Always,” he murmurs like a mantra, changing the settings on his camera so he can shoot from another angle. “So good for me. So beautiful.”

“If this is your idea of good, do I want to know bad?”

She throws her head back and laughs, bruises already blossoming on her neck like the petals of a flower opening in the moonlight. Skin even more fragile than his, hers is almost translucent in its paleness and the way the blood vessels open, reddening it with even the slightest amount of provocation.

“I don’t know.”

The camera shutter snaps in rapid succession as he focuses on her neck, his voice dropping lower.

“Do you?”

She shivers, choosing a pose with her head tilted to allow him better access and he gives her a soft smile of encouragement. She's such a good model, such a good muse.

“Is it that?”

“Hm?”

He looks over his camera to meet her eyes.

“Beautiful, Jihyun. This. Am I?”

Her question hangs heavy in the air like fruit waiting to be picked off the branch. Forbidden. Brown hair mussed, stockings and shoes on the floor, she looks like original sin. Tempting, inviting him home. The skirt of her dress is rucked up to nearly her waist, the black fabric bunched right above her creamy thighs. Lipstick smudged from before they even got here, some of its still on his neck like a firebrand.

“Even now?"

She pauses between each snap of the camera going off.

"Am I beautiful to you like this?”

“More than anything in my world,” he replies. “I will still know your beauty, even when I am blind.”

He hears the jingle of a belt buckle, the rasp of a zipper being pulled down and chuckles to himself as he continues, finger still on the button of his camera.

In the end, Rika was wrong.

There was nothing wrong with how he loved. It wasn’t his love stifling her that was their problem. He loves the woman in front of him equally as much and over the last two years has watched her bloom like flowers in front of him with his care, with their mutual devotion to one another. The art they’ve created since they met helping erase the pain he was holding onto as well as hers. She’s been a healing balm to his heart, to his soul, lighting up the corners of it in ways Rika never did, showing him that it’s okay to be both light and dark at the same time. That it's a balance that should be nurtured and cherished, just like his endless love she never seems to be able to get enough of.

She smiles devilishly, directly at the camera as her legs open fractionally. Hands dip between her thighs, caressing her most intimate places and she whispers his name again, _only his._

Her eyes close, lips slightly parted as she debases herself just for him, for his art. She really is the loveliest thing on earth just like this, a butterfly pressed between panes of glass as she's pressed between bodies, pinned in place. His muse, his lover, his new light, his new savior.

But it's not enough, it's _never enough._

"Test me harder, my love."

He moves back, making sure to get as many searching hands in the shot as articles of clothing begin to hit the floor.

"Test me because you're afraid you'll lose me," he tells her. "I need it to really show now."

She moans wantonly in reply, as the shadows in the room descend and consume her. And its the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, her corruption, his. The darkness growing inside them both being turned to art.

Because this is how it has to be.

This is their love story now.

* * *

 

 _I am a broken house,  
_ _And you are the loveliest thing on earth_

**Author's Note:**

> well that was fun. i think i could probably write jumin or tei now at this rate. find me @ [otomesruinedmylife](http://otomesruinedmylife.tumblr.com) for more mysme, or [purple-satan-fic](http://purple-satan-fic.tumblr.com) if you just want my fic writing blog.
> 
> listen to **lorn - acid rain** for ambiance.


End file.
